


Self-Control

by spikewriter



Category: Angel: the Series, Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: F/M, One Shot, POV First Person, Songfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-05
Updated: 2012-12-05
Packaged: 2017-11-20 08:53:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,131
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/583516
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spikewriter/pseuds/spikewriter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>We're supposed to be celebrating; end of a big case, payment of a big invoice, all stuff which is making the coffers of Angel Investigations fat and happy. They wanted to party. I would have been content to stay at the Hyperion; Cordy, however, had other plans, so off we went.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Self-Control

**Author's Note:**

> "Self Control" by Giancarlo Bigazzi, Raffaele Riefoli, English lyrics by Steve Piccolo
> 
> Originally written at some point in 2002 from Angel's POV when he learns of Buffy and Spike's relationship. Set somewhere in an alternate S6/S7 of BtVS where Angel Investigations is still a cohesive group and Buffy and Spike have moved forward with one another

I don't know how they managed to talk me into this. Cordy and Wes are on the floor dancing, while Gunn is with Fred at the bar, getting her a drink. I'm holding down the table, making the glass of water I ordered last as long as I can. $3.50 for a glass of water? I don't think I want to know what it came out of.  
  
Actually, it was Cordelia who convinced me. She can talk me into almost anything -- except dancing, which is why she's on the floor with Wesley at the moment. We're supposed to be celebrating; end of a big case, payment of a big invoice, all stuff which is making the coffers of Angel Investigations fat and happy. They wanted to party. I would have been content to stay at the Hyperion; Cordy, however, had other plans, so off we went.  
  
The club is crowded, 80's music pounding from the speakers. I hated the 1980s; they weren't good times for me. I spent most of the decade trying to avoid people I knew. Plus we had the whole death of disco thing and the punk rockers. Don't get me started on punk rockers.  
  
A new song starts and it's actually one I know.  
  
 _Oh, the night is my world,_  
 _City lights, painted girls._  
 _In the day, nothing matters,_  
 _It's the night time that flatters_  
  
Kinda works for vampires. Kinda works for me.  
  
 _In the night, no control;_  
 _Through the walls, something's breaking._  
 _Wearing white as you're walking_  
 _Down the street of my soul_  
  
It's then I spot her out on the floor. Buffy. I'd vaguely known she was coming to Los Angeles; Cordelia had said something about Willow mentioning she was going to visit her father. I didn't know when, and I certainly hadn't expected to see her here.  
  
 _You take my self, you take my self control_  
 _You've got me living only for the night_  
 _Before the morning comes, the story's told_  
 _You take my self, you take my self control_  
  
She looks good, better than the last time we met. I don't like remembering that meeting. It was painful, desperately wanting to touch her and not trusting myself. It would have been so easy to take her in my arms and not let her go, lose myself in her. She didn't seem to care, wanting to lose herself in something. What got me though, were her eyes. They were dead, lifeless. What ever Willow had done, Buffy had been hurting pretty badly.  
  
 _Another night, another day goes by_  
 _I never stop myself to wonder why_  
 _You help me to forget to play my role_  
 _You take my self, you take my self control_  
  
The life is back in those eyes as she moves, losing herself in the rhythm. What is it about her and impossibly short skirts, tops that dip low enough to give me a good view, stir up all sorts of feelings better left buried? I'd almost forgotten how she looks when she danced. The girlish innocence I'd first seen is gone; this is a woman who knows exactly how she's moving and what effect it had on men, especially the one she looks up at. She dances a little closer to her partner, giving him a smile that holds a dare.  
  
 _I, I live among the creatures of the night_  
 _I haven't got the will to try and fight_  
 _Against a new tomorrow_  
 _So I guess I'll just believe that tomorrow never comes_  
  
I almost bolt off my chair when I see the bleached blonde hair. What is she doing, dancing with, looking at Spike like that? He's smiling down at her, his hands lightly caressing her waist as his hips move against hers. His touch is possessive, intimate. Her hands come up to rest on his arms, her head tilted back, hair shorter than I remember falling away from her neck. The ragged scar I gave her is still there, but I can't tell if other bites have joined it.  
  
His head dips toward her neck and I tense, feeling my fangs threaten to emerge. If he touches her…if he hurts her…  
  
Spike's face does not change and his lips busy themselves with her skin, working their way up and down her neck. Her eyes close and her lips part, one hand rising to caress the back of his head, fingers twisting in short curls. She is accepting his touch, pulling him closer as if it were the most natural thing in the world.  
  
 _Another night, another day goes by_  
 _I never stop myself to wonder why_  
 _You help me to forget to play my role_  
 _You take my self, you take my self control_  
  
His lips move to hers and they pause on the dance floor, locked in an embrace as his hands trace patterns up and down her back. They are still moving, but only just. Part of my mind screams that my wayward grandchilde has finally learned how to hold a human in thrall. It's the only explanation I can think of.  
  
 _I, I live among the creatures of the night_  
 _I haven't got the will to try and fight_  
 _Against a new tomorrow, so I guess I'll just believe it_  
 _That tomorrow never comes_  
  
The kiss ends and their heads move away from one another as they start to move again. The look she gives him is bold and confident, her smile wicked. She looks happy and very much in control of the situation. Whatever is happening, she's fully aware and has embraced it.  
  
 _A safe night, I'm living in the forest of my dream_  
 _I know the night is not as it would seem_  
 _I must believe in something, so I'll make myself believe it_  
 _That this night will never go_  
  
As much as I hate to admit it, if anyone is in thrall, it's Spike. His gaze is slightly unfocused as he looks down at her. Her hands slide down to his hips, caressing them, pressing him closer to her. His eyes close and he breathes deep. When he opens them, he looks as if she were the sum total of his universe. Then the cocky smile I know so well appears and his lips move with words I cannot hear. She responds by performing a shimmy down and up his body that causes his eyes to unfocus again.  
  
 _Oh, the night is my world_  
 _City lights, painted girl_  
 _In the day nothing matters_  
 _It's the night time that flatters_  
  
They are lovers, no doubt about it. Their moves are too intimate, too familiar for it to be anything else. The knowledge hurts, a dull ache. For some reason, my mind flashes back to Sunnydale, a time not too distant but divided from where I am now as if by centuries. I see Spike's face as he watches me with Drusilla. Angelus claimed his property without a thought to whom it hurt; truth be told, I took pleasure in watching Spike's pain. Does Drusilla know of this development? She was never one to let her toys slip easily through her grasp.  
  
 _I, I live among the creatures of the night  
_ _I haven't got the will to try and fight  
_ _Against a new tomorrow, so I guess I'll just believe it_  
That tomorrow never knows

His hand reaches out to caress her hair and I see the first hint that Buffy is not the only one who controls where this is going. This is hardly the same sodding idiot who was Drusilla's devoted slave, the vampire who killed his first slayer to prove himself worthy of her. There's a certain calm confidence that hangs about him, as if he has no doubt he is precisely where he should be. He's different and I think I understand where the change began. Happened to me with a pair of innocent, trusting green eyes.  
  
 _A safe night, I'm living in the forest of a dream_  
 _I know the night is not as it would seem_  
 _I must believe in something, so I'll make myself believe it_  
 _That this night will never go_  
  
Her eyes devour him, the emotions there reflecting his: desire, heat, lust, love.  
  
I just said "love," didn't I?  
  
Spike is in love with her; there is no doubt about it. It is in every glance, every touch, every caress. Does she realize he loves with his whole being, that he would willingly die to defend what he has claimed? Spike has always been a romantic. Vicious, bloodthirsty as he was taught, but romantic.  
  
The music fades and shifts into a new tune, slower this time. Some couples begin to leave the floor as others enter. Spike and Buffy slip their arms around each other, her head resting on his chest. He speaks again and she lifts her head to give him a smile that leaves me no doubt; she returns his love. I remember what it is like to be bathed in that smile and the ache throbs a little harder.  
  
She lets her head drop to his chest once more, eyes closed as they move slowly in place. Neither knows they are being observed; I imagine they don't particularly care. Once it seemed Buffy knew the moment I walked in the room. Now, her entire attention is focused on her new love and I don't even exist.  
  
Cordy and Wesley return from their dance, a bit flushed with their exertions. Gunn and Fred manage to reappear at the same time, also a bit flushed, though more from proximity to each other than anything else, I imagine. Cordy drops into a chair and snags my glass, downing the expensive water in just a few gulps. "You shouldn't be sitting here feeling sorry for yourself," she tells me.  
  
"I'm not feeling sorry for myself. I was just…thinking."  
  
She gives me a look that says she knows I'm lying, but I don't feel like sharing. No one knows Buffy's here, so there's no need to go into…  
  
"Good lord," Wesley says. "Is that Buffy?"  
  
Leave it to a Watcher, even an ex-Watcher. I don't say anything, but everyone cranes their necks to look. "Isn't that…" Wesley begins to ask.  
  
"Yes, it's Spike."  
  
"Who's Spike?" Fred asks.  
  
"Vampire," Cordelia replies. "One of Angel's less savory relations." She pauses. "They're dancing awfully close."  
  
"Dangerous?" This from Gunn.  
  
"Very." Wesley is frowning and I can tell all of his training is screaming at the sight before him, just like it did when we first met.  
  
"I think Buffy can handle herself." I'm trying to figure out a way to change the subject without appearing too obvious.  
  
"For a slayer, she has an amazingly unfortunate tendency to get herself involved with vam…" Wesley closes his mouth when he realizes what he's saying.  
  
"They're not bothering anyone," I say. "Let them be."  
  
We watch them in silence for a long minute. Spike is resting his cheek against the top of Buffy's head, his own eyes half-closed. I don't think I've ever seen him look happier. Correction. I know I've never seen him look happier.  
  
I feel a hand on my arm and look down to discover it is Cordelia's. She's watching me, her eyes filled with sympathy. She knows how I feel about Buffy, knows how hard it is for me to see her with him. There was a time when Queen C would have tried to cover the hurt with cutting remarks, torn her rival into bits in an effort to turn my attention toward her.  
  
But Cordelia has changed as well with the passage of time, and those days are behind her. I'm not sure what we have between us, but I'm pretty certain I want to find out.  
  
"Cordelia, would you like to dance?"  
  
Now all eyes are on me. Cordelia looks surprised, but she gives me a smile. "Sure."  
  
I'm not very good at this, and I manage to step on her toes a few times when we're on the floor. She doesn't complain, though, and relaxes against me, her head resting on my chest much the same way Buffy rests hers on Spike's.  
  
I give them one last look. He's talking, probably reciting some bit of doggerel he's composed on the spot. I don't like the idea of the two of them together. I don't like Spike. Never have, probably never will.  
  
But I don't have a say in the matter anymore, do I? I gave up that right when I first started to think I might have some feelings for Cordelia that went beyond friendship. Right or wrong, she's made her choice. Just as I've made mine.  
  
I hold Cordelia a little tighter. All I can hope is that it turns out well.


End file.
